A Bride for Lurch
by Lit95
Summary: Gomez and Morticia are eager to help Lurch prepare for his bride-to-be, but things backfire when they find out she's not who Lurch thinks she is. (Based on the 1960's television show)
1. Chapter 1

The quiet laughter mingled with the melodious pounding of rain and hail. Through the small cracked window, Gomez and Morticia gleefully watched their children run around the cemetery with Uncle Fester. The attic always was the perfect spot during a storm.

"What little darlings," Morticia cooed.

"Perhaps we should join them," Gomez suggested. He slid his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to his side.

She looked thoughtfully out the window. "It does look like fun…"

"There's nothing like a good romp cemetery -" A flash of lightning suddenly lit up the sky, illuminating for Gomez both Morticia's necklace and eyes. "During a thunderstorm," he finished, his eyes now glaringly drawn to her. He moved his hand down to rest on her hip. The smell of rain and shampoo was beginning to fill his senses.

"Or the attic," Morticia slowly turned her lustrous gaze towards him.

"Cara mia." He flung his cigar to free his other hand. In one swift motion he was bent over her, her weight entirely in his arms and her hair nearly touching the floor.

"Mon cher," she responded sensuously. As Gomez started to lovingly attack her neck and chest, a vibrant zipping noise screeched throughout the house. "Ah, the mail's in," Morticia nonchalantly announced. But Gomez, now oblivious to everything around them, continued his ministrations.

A few minutes later they were interrupted by another noise, this time a voice. "There you two are! I've been looking all over for you," the voice exclaimed. The couple looked up to see Mama waving a small envelope and panting. "Lurch is getting married!"

"Our Lurch?" Gomez asked.

Mama nodded her head, obviously proud to be the first to tell them. "Our Lurch."

Intrigued, the couple disengaged from one another. "But why? Where? When?" Morticia enquired.

"And to whom?" Gomez pitched in.

"Soon! She's – "

"Ughhh," a low groan from the doorway broke Mama's excitement.

"Uh – oh."

Lurch marched up to the small woman. "My. Letter. Please." A large hand extended out.

Noticing the stern look on Gomez and Morticia's face, she placed the letter in his hand. "Here you go," she spoke haughtily. "Don't expect any love dust from me when your betrothed arrives."

"Mama, you shouldn't be reading Lurch's mail without his consent." Morticia scolded.

"If you'd have seen how badly he was shaking, you'd have read it too!" she retorted.

"She's that beautiful, hey old man?" Gomez grinned. Lurch groaned and shook his head, then handed the letter to Gomez. He took it out of the envelope and began scanning its contents.

"What's it say, darling?"

"It's from Lurch's mama… she's found him a wife and has referred her to come visit… the young lady will be here… tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?!"

"That's what it says here."

"Are you sure?" Morticia sidled up closer to get a glimpse.

Gomez took out his spectacles to double check. "My mistake my dear. She'll be here in," he glanced at the clock before looking at his pocket watch, "exactly three hours and forty-one minutes." Lurch, who was sitting on an old porch swing, moaned loudly, his hands nervously rubbing his knees.

"Don't you want to get married, Lurch? I'm sure she's a lovely girl," Morticia said gently. He looked up at her and stubbornly shook his head. "But marriage is a wonderful thing, isn't it darling?"

"Indeed, it is Querida. Lurch, if I hadn't married Mrs. Addams I'd be… well I'd be single - an old bachelor until the day I died."

"Darling," she tenderly patted his cheek.

"It's true, cara." Gomez gave her a quick peck on her hand before continuing. "Lurch, marriage will do you good - if it's to the right woman of course."

"And Lurch, while she's here you'll be discharged of all your butler duties. Mr. Addams and I don't mind." She looked at him encouragingly.

"You don't want to be a playboy forever. Just look at Cousin Itt going from woman to woman, not knowing who's who. As a matter of fact, I bet most of those women don't even know what he looks like under all that hair."

"Darling, **you** don't even know what he looks like underneath all his hair."

"What can I say," Gomez shrugged, "Cousin Itt's a man of mystery."

"Come, Lurch," Morticia held out her hand. "Why don't you help me tidy up the guest room – it'll get your mind off things. Mama can prepare tonight and tomorrow night's menu, and Mr. Addams will find you the right attire to wear for the evening."

Lurch gave another low moan.

"Don't worry dear, Mr. Addams has impeccable taste. Come, come." She flashed a warm, inviting smile.


	2. Chapter 2

"I don't like it! It seems fishy. Lurch has never met the lady. For all he knows, she could be an old hag. And what woman would willingly marry a man she's never seen?"

"Now Uncle Fester, we should be supportive of Lurch. The poor dear has enough fears and worries as is. And besides, looks aren't everything."

Morticia sat in her chair, calmly knitting, while Uncle Fester stared anxiously out the window. The rabid thunderstorm had mellowed to a subtle shower and steam could be seen emanating from the hot ground. Fragments of sunlight were beginning to break through the clouds.

"Maybe she won't come now that the weather's getting bad," he said hopefully. Morticia gave him a knowing look before turning her attention to the movement descending the stairs.

"Oh Lurch, you look marvelous!" She sprang to meet him.

"I do?" He stood at the foot of the stairs with Gomez complacently at his side.

She emphatically nodded. "Absolutely! The green cravat and emerald cufflinks are the perfect complements to your lovely pallor."

"She's here!" The bombastic foghorn sounded seconds after Uncle Fester's excited declaration.

"Can't. Do. This."

"Lurch," Morticia quickly grabbed his sweaty hand, "she traveled all this way for you. Don't you think you could at least open the door and talk to her? Gomez and I will be right here."

Lurch turned to Gomez for reassurance, then looked back at Morticia and nodded. Cautiously, he inched towards the front door, turning every so often to make sure the couple was near. With tremulous hands, he turned the knob.

"Hello! I'm -" The delicate voice was cut off by the bang of a closing door.

Gomez and Morticia, who were standing a few feet behind him, looked at one another, confused about Lurch's sudden action.

"Lurch," Gomez spoke up, "you just slammed the door in that girl's face."

Lurch moaned, trembling even more than before. "She's... too... pretty."

"Too pretty? This I gotta see," Uncle Fester barged his way through the trio and opened the door. "Hiya! I'm Fester, Fester Frump. You must be Lurch's bride-to-be?"

"Yes, I'm Giselle Blackshaw." She flashed a smile of her perfectly white teeth, trying not to notice Uncle Fester's scrutinizing eyes looking her up and down.

"Uh – huh… err, I can take your bag."

"Oh, um, thank you."

The door was about to shut in her face once more when Gomez quickly caught it. "Miss Blackshaw is it? I'm Mr. Addams. Please, won't you come in?" He held out his arm for her. "I hope you can excuse Lurch and Fester. They were a bit excited."

The tall blonde's tenseness rapidly evaporated under Gomez's charm. "It's alright Mr. Addams. I'm rather accustomed to men…" she paused, taking the time to move closer to him, close enough to inspect his well-cut suit and expensive cigar. "Getting excited around me," she nearly purred.

"And this is my lovely wife, Mrs. Addams."

Giselle removed her arm from his, her smile fading substantially. "Oh. Hello," she said flatly.

"How do you do, Miss Blackshaw? Please, come sit," Morticia graciously welcomed. "I'm sure you are tired from a long trip. Lurch why don't – Lurch?" As if on cue, the first notes of a slow ballad began playing from the living room. She smiled, "that's him now." She led the young lady down the step, into the living room, and over to the grand harpsicord.

"Giselle, we'd like you to meet Lurch, the best harpsicord player we know," Gomez boasted.

"What a coincidence! I just adore the harpsicord - and especially men who play it."

The shaky butler suddenly lost his spot and the music came to a halt. He turned in awe to the woman who proclaimed such words. "You do?"

"Of course! What sensible woman wouldn't?"

A lopsided grin broke the austere face. As Lurch stood up, his confidence seemed to grow with every added inch. "Mrs. Addams, could we… have tea… now?"

* * *

Once everyone was seated, Giselle wasted no time in starting conversation. "Lurch, I've heard so much about you. You are exactly the sort of man I've always dreamed of."

"I am?"

"Yes. Tall, dark, handsome, talented, mysterious," she took a sip of tea, "rich. The stuff of novels, really." Lurch proudly took a swig of his own tea. He sat with the expression of a kid showing off an all "A" report card.

Morticia beamed at the couple on the couch across from her. "We are glad you think so highly of Lurch. He's such a sweet, gentle soul."

"I could tell he was the gentle kind the moment I laid eyes on him. When I was a pageant girl, you wouldn't believe how some of the men acted."

"A - pageant girl?" Morticia croaked.

"In my younger days, not anymore of course. I was runner up for Miss America a couple years ago." She uncrossed and re-crossed her long, slender legs, fidgeting with her mini skirt each time it crept up. "I mainly work as a model now."

"You definitely have the credentials." Gomez said, eliciting a shocked glance from Morticia.

"We hope you will find the guest room inviting. Though I do apologize, our vulture Zelda has been feeling a bit under the weather lately, so Gomez and I have put her in our room with us." Morticia shook her head and sighed, "She's always been such a comfort for guests…"

"A vulture?" Giselle nervously chuckled. "You have quite the sense of humor." But when neither Morticia, Gomez, nor Lurch cracked a smile she grew silent.

"Do you have any pets, Miss Blackshaw?" Gomez asked between casual cigar puffs.

"Oh no, no. Animals are so smelly and messy and, well frankly, a nuisance."

"I. Like. Animals." Lurch finally spoke.

"Yes, Lurch is wonderful with animals. You should see how well he gets along with them." Morticia took her last sip of tea before continuing on, "Oh and the bats! He just loves sleeping with the bats."

"Bats?" Giselle swallowed. "I – I like bats, though I - I can't say I've slept with them."

She finally took the time to allow herself to gaze around the room. The eccentricities of her hosts began to materialize. Sure, their mannerisms were a little odd at first, but Mr. Addams seemed normal enough. She sighed, it's too bad he was already taken. Lurch wasn't exactly what she had pictured, but he was quiet and easily swayed and, according to the letters, wealthy. But why would he need to live in a strange house like this, with all these other people? As for Mrs. Addams – she inwardly shuddered – she's sure she has never seen such a ghostly looking woman in all her life. And who wears a long sleeved, full length black gown during springtime?

"Would you like it as a wedding gift, Miss Blackshaw?" A male voice interrupted her thoughts. "I'm not sure how he'll feel about being separated from his other half, but for you and Lurch, we'd be glad to give you it."

Giselle's eyes widened, suddenly aware that she had been staring at a tail swinging from the backside of a mounted moose. Before she could respond, a large hand sprang out of the box next to Morticia's chair. "Gahh!" she gasped, nearly jumping into Lurch's lap.

"That's Thing," Lurch pointed out.

"Where's the rest of him?!"

Lurch responded with a low growl and a shrug.

"Why thank you, Thing." Morticia gracefully set down her cup and saucer. "Everyone, dinner is ready."

Giselle scrambled to her feet. "Do you mind if I use the powder room?"

"Not at all," Morticia cordially said. "The powder room is down the hall, second door to the left. If you've reached the swamp you've gone too far."


	3. Chapter 3

"The secret lies in… the concentration." In slow motion, Gomez took a step back, turned his body slightly, and, with a battle cry, released the butcher knife. It landed perfectly outside the target. He frowned and threw another one. Again, it landed outside the target ring, this time on opposite ends.

Morticia picked one up. "Like this?" she licked her lips, squinted her eyes, and with elegant movement, released the deadly object.

"Exactly, _angelita mía_ ," Gomez exclaimed when it pierced the bullseye. He expected to see her eyes dance with excitement, but instead found them lackluster. "Morticia, what is it?"

She deeply sighed. "Darling, do you think we made a good first impression on Miss Blackshaw tonight? I do so want us to be dear friends…"

"Of course! What would make you think otherwise?"

"Well she," Morticia moved to seat herself on the edge of the bed of nails. "She never seemed engaged. She acted as if she were waiting for something strange or frightful to happen."

"In this house? Our beautiful, cozy abode?" He shook his head skeptically and removed a cigar from the pocket of his robe.

"It is a grand old home isn't it?" Morticia wistfully gazed around the damp playroom and the old torture relics that lined the brick walls. "Perhaps I'm being overprotective - Lurch is quite smitten. Though, there was something peculiar about her…"

"I knew she was a crock!" Uncle Fester cheerfully bragged as he made his way through the trap door. The couple turned their attention to the big bellied man with a cactus in his hands. "I knew it the moment she told us she had been in Girl Scouts."

"Come, come old man, we all have our flaws."

"Gomez, I'm telling you she's not what she's cracked to be." Before Gomez could open his mouth, he hurriedly carried on. "I just heard it from her own lips. She's a crook – a con – an imposter!"

"Sounds like my kind of person," he smirked to himself.

"Gomez!" Morticia stood up and crossed her arms. "Uncle Fester, what on earth are you talking about? She and Lurch are in the living room, blissfully playing duets on the harpsicord."

"No, they're not." He turned to shut the small door before scooting closer to the pair, his voice growing quiet and excited. "They stopped about thirty minutes ago – I know because I heard Lurch escorting her up the steps. They had stopped at her door and she was going on about how much fun she had tonight and how well he plays – all that mushy stuff you know - and," he eagerly took a bite out of his cactus. "Right before Lurch left she asked him if she could use the phone. So he told her there was one in your office. Well, she didn't know it, but I was in your office under the train tracks, recharging myself with the generator."

"Uncle Fester, you should have told her you were in there."

"It's a good thing I didn't!" he said indignantly. "Morticia, you should've heard the things I heard. She started talking to some guy. Oh boy, did she talk! There was something said about money and freaks and a deal of sorts…"

"Perhaps she's in stocks?"

Uncle Fester gave Gomez a dead-pan expression. He was about to continue his tale when the lid of a turquoise box flew open and a hand ascended from it.

"Thing! Shouldn't you be in bed?" Morticia asked in a motherly tone. For a moment the hand drooped sullenly, then perked back up and swayed left to right, first towards Morticia and then Gomez.

"Well alright darling, tell us. Then you must get straight to bed."

Thing disappeared into the blackness of his box. Seconds later he reappeared with a recorder in hand. Gomez took it, laid it on the torture rack, and pushed play. Everyone watched as the wheels started spinning. The crackling white noise filled the room. Then a hushed voice came on the speakers:

"I'm telling you Sal, something's not right. I can't do it… It's not the same as before. These people – they're real freaks!... I know, I know… But you should see this guy, he's an ogre! I don't care if he _does_ have a million dollars, it's not worth it… Look, the deal's off."

There was a long space of silence. Then Giselle's voice came back on with an evident strain. "I'll see what else I can get, but after that I'm out. OK?... No, they don't. They actually think I want to get married," she choked out a laugh. "Yes… but – fine, one more day."

Thing stopped the recorder and rubbed his fingers together, waiting for a reaction.

Uncle Fester was the first to speak, "A real crock if I ever knew one!"

Morticia shuffled back to the nail bed and plopped herself down. "But why would anyone want to take advantage of Lurch?"

"Money!" Uncle Fester said matter-of-fact.

"Lurch hasn't got any money…or has he?" Gomez pondered.

"I'm sure Lurch has some, darling. He's quite frugal."

Uncle Fester added, "You should see him at the butcher's shop! He's always able to negotiate prices. The men never argue."

"But what would make Miss Blackshaw think he has any substantial wealth?"

Gomez snapped his fingers. "The letters from his mother! She still thinks Lurch is the owner of this great estate. Remember, Querida? Lurch never told her the truth."

"Yes, I remember," she said with a shudder. Flashbacks of being reduced to a maid played in her mind. It took her and Gomez days to brainwash Lurch back into his usual role of butler.

"Oh dear," Morticia laid her chin in her hands, "what are we going to do now?"

"Shoot her in the back!" Uncle Fester enthusiastically replied. "Where's my gun?!"

"No violence!" Morticia shot up. "No, we don't need to do anything rash." With her eyes cast down, she started to pace. She would think of something, even if it took her all night.


	4. Chapter 4

The following afternoon seemed to drag like molasses. To Morticia's dismay, no ideas had yet sprung into her head on how to deal with the imposter. Part of her was flared with anger, but the other half was plagued with agony for Lurch's sake. Though no one could agree on what to do, they all agreed on one thing – they wouldn't tell Lurch. It would be too painful. He was already so far gone. She mused to herself as Giselle continued gabbing.

"It is so hard to find a good man, but now that I've found Lurch, I couldn't be happier. I feel as if I found a gold mine. What about you, Mrs. Addams? I'm sure you felt as if you won the lottery when you met your husband."

"Hmm?" she blinked. "Oh, yes." Her dry words were accompanied by a tepid grin.

"I do have a question for you, if you don't mind."

Morticia drew herself up, bracing for what was to come.

"How is it exactly that you're related to Lurch?" A slight pause and then, "all of you?"

"Why Lurch is our -" Morticia bit her lip. "Our very dear friend. He's nearly family."

The two women were left alone in the greenhouse. Morticia had been feeding Cleopatra when she found Giselle gawking about the various lethal plants. The least civil thing she could do was offer the young lady some henbane and company.

It was now past noon and the sun poured in and enveloped the room. Thankfully, Morticia sat comfortably shaded under the protection of an extraordinarily overgrown Venus Flytrap. Giselle, on the other hand, was placed alarmingly near a shrub of poison ivy.

"You must be quite the good friends for Lurch to let you all stay with him." She then loudly exhaled, "It's too bad I have to leave tonight."

"Oh? So soon?" she coolly asked.

"Yes. My mother is ill. Father said I needed to hurry back." When Morticia said nothing, she dramatically threw her hands in her lap. "I hate to leave Lurch so soon. We were just getting to know each other."

She arched an eyebrow. "Mmm, indeed."

"Giselle," said a deep voice. Both ladies turned towards Lurch, who was dressed to the nines – emerald cufflinks included. "Movies?" he pointed to his watch. "I bought… you this." He pulled out a bouquet of roses from behind his back. Stuck to it was a note.

"Oh Lurch," she gently grabbed the bouquet and lifted the note. "and a poem too?"

"I wrote it."

"Thank you," she displayed her most charming smile. "I'll be ready in just a minute."

Once he left, she said to Morticia, "I'm going to wait until after the movie to tell him. I think it's best, don't you?"

Morticia faintly nodded her head. Her eyes were searing into Giselle. How could she do this? How could any woman break Lurch's heart this way?

* * *

"Are they back yet?"

Gomez put down his kaleidoscope. "No, Uncle Fester, they're not."

"Well they should be! A movie isn't that long."

"Uncle Fester, it hasn't even been an hour." Morticia snipped another rose. She stopped when she saw him prop his gun against the window. "What are you doing, dear?"

"Waiting," He huffed.

"I'm with Fester on this one. I think the best way to fix the solution is to get rid of the problem."

"Mama, **please**! You're an Addams, remember? We don't go around shooting people."

"Who said anything about shooting?" she casually remarked as she held up a shrunken head.

"Oh!" Morticia threw her scissors down with a clang. "This is all my fault," she nearly sobbed. "If I hadn't been so pushy with Lurch about marriage, none of this would've happened."

"Querida," she felt two strong arms tenderly snake around her. "How could you have known it would be like this?" Gomez said softly.

"Yeah!" Uncle Fester approached the couple. "It's not your fault Lurch got a wacko for a fiancée."

"Shhh!" Mama waved her hands at them.

"Mama, what -" Gomez stopped short. A frantic rapping was coming from the front door. He strode over and opened it.

"All right, hands up!" A short and stocky man barged his way into the house. Following him were two other men, dressed in plain blue jeans and white t-shirts. With a gun pointed directly towards his abdomen, all Gomez could do was obey orders.

"That's it! Back up, back up," the man snarled.

"Can I help you?" Gomez said with his hands raised high.

"Yeah, you can shut up and show us the dough." The man held him off while the two accomplices began dispersing into the living room and rummaging through anything they could find.

"Stop right there!" Uncle Fester yelled at them. "I'll shoot!" The two men stopped what they were doing and, with a sneer, began prowling towards him. With shaky hands and closed eyes, Uncle Fester fired a shot. But the bullet hit the chandelier, causing it to fall on top of him. "Did I hit 'em?" he mumbled before blacking out.

"Mama are these your friends?" Morticia asked in her usual collected manner; curiously observing them as they continued to open drawers and touch objects.

"What's the idea?" the leader said to Gomez. "Who's that broad in all the get-up?"

"I beg your pardon!" With a queen's posture, Morticia marched over to him and Gomez. "I happen to be his wife." She proudly folded her arms.

"Hey watch it!" He abruptly pointed his pistol at her.

"Tish!" Gomez darted in front of her.

"You low life," he growled. "Needed a wife, huh? What'd you do with Giselle?"

"Sal?!" Giselle emerged in the doorway.

He whirled around. "Baby!" he crooned.

"What are you doing here? What'd you bring the guys for?"

"Thought we'd give you hand. Had to see this place for ourselves."

As they talked, the other two men kept looking for items worth stealing. In a flurry of adrenaline, one of the men mistakenly opened Thing's box. Just as he did so, the other turned a corner and came face to face with Cousin Itt. One man was sprayed with a water gun while the other was stricken with terror. They both ran to Sal.

"We're getting outta here, boss!" They unloaded their pockets full of coins, cash, and a Rolex watch.

"Hey, what's the idea?"

"This place is a nut house!" With that, they were gone.

Pulling another pistol from his leather jacket, Sal returned his attention to Gomez and Morticia.  
"I'll hold them, baby. You get what you can."

Before she could take a step, a hand grabbed the back of her blouse's collar. She was left dangling in the air, screaming. She swatted until she could feel a body. "Lurch!" She cleared the surprise from her throat, "Lurch darling, put me down."

In the mere seconds of Sal's distraction, Gomez managed to grab a pistol and knock the other one on the ground. Before Sal could pick it up, Morticia swiftly put her foot on it.

"Ah – ha!" Gomez had a dangerously wild-eyed look with the gun in his hand.

Sal froze. "You ain't Lurch?" Gomez shook his head.

"That's Lurch," Morticia calmly pointed.

He stepped back to get a glimpse of him. His head moved with his eyes. When he saw Lurch's entire build and haggard face, he unintentionally knocked into Gomez. The cold pistol protruded into his back. He was trapped. "You people, you, you're – you're something else," he stammered, "K-kooks, kooks!"

Giselle, still hanging in Lurch's grasp, rolled her eyes, "That's what I've been trying to tell you."

Upon this revelation, Lurch instantly put her down. "You lied?" Instead of responding, she toyed with her clothes and hair. "You don't… like… me? Don't… want marriage?"

With hands on her hips, she loudly sighed before looking up at him. If only she wasn't surrounded, she thought. "Look, you're a swell guy, really. But, you see, I'm not exactly in the marrying business."

"Go." His voice cracked. He stepped aside, allowing the breeze from the doorway to finally pass through. The giant man looked utterly crushed, with his shoulders drooped and his crestfallen face. His eyes focused solely on the carpet.

Giselle hadn't even moved when Sal darted passed them. "See ya in the car baby."

She was about to dash out, but a second glance at Lurch swayed her to spin on her heels. "You know," she said meekly, "you're the only one who has ever written a poem for me." After a moment's hesitation, she reached up and gave Lurch a kiss on the cheek. He was struck mute. Morticia reached for Gomez's hand, she herself caught up in the tender moment. "Well, goodbye."

"Don't forget your suitcase," Mama suddenly appeared from behind Gomez and Morticia. She merrily handed her the bag and led her out the door. Once it was closed she said, "I hope she doesn't take too long to open her suitcase."

"Why is that, Mama?" asked Gomez.

"Well, snakes like to breathe too you know."

The couple shared a grin. All the while, Lurch was paralyzed with his hand on his cheek.

"Lurch?" Gomez lightly tapped his arm. His eyes were glazed over, and his mouth hung open. "Lurch?"

"Lurch, darling?" Concern filled Morticia's voice, "Lurch, please speak to us." She helplessly looked to Gomez for support.

As if in a trance, he finally peered down his nose, his hand never leaving his cheek. "She. Kissed. Me." His sturdy legs suddenly gave out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello! Thank you so much for the reviews! They are greatly appreciated. Also, thank you for reading - I hope you've enjoyed it :)**

* * *

A week had passed, and all was well in the Addams residence - save one slightly broken heart. However - true musician that he was - Lurch found inspiration from his pain. He had composed several new pieces and was nowhere near slowing down. He even allowed Ophelia to accompany him on one of them, adding vocals specifically for her.

Thanks to the whole family, the butler's tattered organ was slowly on the mend. Since Lurch and Giselle never made it to the movies that fateful day, (a result of Pugsley secretly draining most of the car's gasoline to use on an experiment & Lurch having to push it home) he went along with Mama and the kids to see the noontime show. He also had an invitation to attend tonight's opera with Gomez and Morticia, but he had kindly declined.

"Darling, have you seen my brooch anywhere?" Morticia glided into the study. Her dainty hands began caressing papers, books, and shelves. "The one with an eye... It was an heirloom and I can't seem to find it."

"No, I haven't Tish." Gomez was on the floor, sitting in lotus position and pouring over the day's newspaper. "Have you checked the playroom?"

"Yes…" She walked behind him. Gomez turned the page. "Wait – what was that?" she crouched down to his level.

He flipped the paper back and tried to see what she had spotted.

"Is that?" she lifted a corner of it closer to her.

"By George," he muttered, "it is."

A blurry black and white photo was squished amongst the avalanche of words. Under it, was a small caption: NORTORIOUS GANGSTER AND HIS MOLL ARE FINALLY CAUGHT.

Morticia quickly released the page and resumed her scavenging. "It's too bad."

"What's too bad, Querida." Gomez had risen and started following her around.

"I think we were hasty to judge Miss Blackshaw. Her and Lurch surely had some connection."

"How you could say that?" Gomez was baffled. "She led him on, played with him like a cat harassing a mouse. And now Lurch – _our Lurch!_ – is stuck in misery, left to sweep up the _cold_ remains of his _fragile_ heart." When his dramatic monologue was over, he collapsed in his executive chair.

"Yes, that is true enough... though, he seems to be getting on rather well now," Morticia met him at his desk. "But, darling, I know I saw something more. It was just a glimpse, a small one, of the real her."

"When she was cornered, you mean." He chewed away on his cigar. "She felt pity for him, that's all."

"I don't believe pity has ever had much influence over her." Morticia saw the scorn etched on her husband's face. Playfully, she dropped herself in his lap. "But perhaps you're right, dear. You are much better with people than I am."

"Nonsense," he softened, "you're just far more caring and softhearted." He rubbed her arm. There was a short lapse of time when they sat quietly, both lost in their thoughts.

"Darling," Morticia absentmindedly played with a pen on his desk, "forgive me if I'm being selfish, but I'm glad she kept her designs on Lurch and not you."

"Me?"

"Did you not notice the way she clung to you when you answered the door?"

He innocently shook his head.

"I certainly did. She was ready to make you hers!" Her eyes were fire.

Gomez couldn't resist laughing at his wife's sudden fervor.

"Well!" she tried to get up, but he managed to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her back to his lap.

"Tish, you're as beautiful as a thorn on a rose," he chuckled and added a kiss on her shoulder for emphasis. When he spoke again his voice lowered, taking on a more serious tone. "You have my word, Cara Mia, that you are the only moonlight that lights my path; the only terror that haunts my soul."

For a fleeting moment, he thought he melted her completely. There was no response, not even a stir. Then she smirked and gently pried his cigar from him. "Merci, Bubala."


End file.
